And the foam was white in her wake like snow, And her frail mast bowed when the breeze would blow, And bent like a wand of willow. I shaded mine eyes one day when a boat I marked her course till a dancing mote, She faded out on the moonlit foam, And I stayed behind in the dear-loved home; And my thoughts all day were about the boat, I And my dreams upon the pillow. pray you hear my song of a boat For it is but short: My boat you shall find none fairer afloat, In river or port. Long I looked out for the lad she bore, On the open desolate sea, And I think he sailed to the heavenly shore, For he came not back to me A song of a nest: There was once a nest in a hollow: Ah me! Down in the mosses and knot-grass pressed, Soft and warm and full to the brim Vetches leaned over it purple, and dim, With buttercup buds to follow. I pray you hear my song of a nest, For it is not long: You shall never light in a summer quest The bushes among Shall never light on a prouder sitter, I had a nestful once of my own, Ah, happy, happy I! Right dearly I loved them; but when they were grown They spread out their wings to fly Songs of Seven Oh, one after one they flew away Far up to the heavenly blue, I pray you what is the nest to me, And what is the shore where I stood to see Can I call that home where I anchor yet, Can I call that home where my nest was set, Nay, but the port where my sailor went, There is the home where my thoughts are sent, The only home for me Ah me! 433 Jean Ingelow [1820-1897] LOOKING BACKWARD THE RETREAT HAPPY those early days, when I My Conscience with a sinful sound, O how I long to travel back, And tread again that ancient track! In that state I came, return. Henry Vaughan [1622–1695] Castles in the Air A SUPERSCRIPTION Look in my face; my name is Might-have-been; Cast up thy Life's foam-fretted feet between; Of ultimate things unuttered the frail screen. Mark me, how still I am! But should there dart One moment through thy soul the soft surprise 435 Of that winged Peace which lulls the breath of sighs,- Thy visage to mine ambush at thy heart Dante Gabriel Rossetti [1828-1882] THE CHILD IN THE GARDEN WHEN to the garden of untroubled thought And wished again to enter, and explore The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought, It seemed some purer voice must speak before Henry Van Dyke (1852 CASTLES IN THE AIR My thoughts by night are often filled With visions false as fair: For in the Past alone I build My castles in the air. I dwell not now on what may be; Through that which might have been. Thomas Love Peacock [1785-1866] SOMETIMES ACROSS the fields of yesterday He sometimes comes to me, And yet he smiles so wistfully I wonder if he hopes to see THE LITTLE GHOSTS WHERE are they gone, and do you If they come back at fall o' dew, The little ghosts of long ago, That long ago were you? know And all the songs that ne'er were sung, And all the dreams that ne'er came true, Like little children dying young Do they come back to you? Thomas S. Jones, Jr. [1882 MY OTHER ME CHILDREN, do you ever, In walks by land or sea, Meet a little maiden Long time lost to me? She is gay and gladsome, Has a laughing face, And her name is Grace, |